Strange Attractors (38 page)

How will you explain my absence at the cottage?

I’ve got it figured out. Don’t worry.

I am worry-free, Maudi. You know that, though it would be an easier state to maintain if you’d discussed this topic with me sooner.

Rosette back-winged onto the ledge above the portal, shifting to her human form when she landed. Nell had done the same and was already down the embankment, looking up at her. She tightened her mind shield.
There wasn’t time, and I didn’t want Nell picking up on it.

She might have agreed.

And she might not have. This is necessary, Dray, and it will work.

Risks?

Best not know them…

Drayco’s tail snapped.

It’s going to be fine. I promise.

He rumbled a purr.
If anyone can do it, Maudi, a witch born under the sign of the Twins can.

Thank you, Drayco.

Rosette groaned as she slid down the bank, Nell clasping her hand and keeping her upright as she hit the ground. Drayco came to her side, panting. He pushed his head into her thigh and she buried her hand in his ruff. Nell stared back at Temple Los Loma and together they surveyed the wide expanse, their eyes resting on the mountains, smoking and rumbling as if the Earth would soon erupt. Rosette kept hold of Nell’s hand as the Three Sisters glided into the crevasse behind them. ‘We’ll bring him back, Nell. We’ll find a way to bring Jarrod back, and figure this out. Earth will survive.’ Rosette squeezed her hand.

Nell nodded and led her into the portal.

Here I go, Dray. Here I go!
Rosette closed her eyes and let her hand slip from Nell’s. She called in the Elementals, conjuring a spell that would allow her awareness to inhabit two places at once. The force of energy that came startled her, and then it snatched her breath away.

Maudi?

Grayson watched Rosette fly into the clouds, his spine prickling. He never had got used to her ability to shape-shift and seeing her do it only reminded him of how different they were. ‘See you in Dumarka, Rosette,’ he whispered as he shouldered his pack.

She didn’t look back but her high-pitched falcon cry whistled across the wind. He exhaled and headed towards the portal at a slower pace. He wanted to use the time it took to cross the heat-soaked plain to meditate on his destination. The clearer his mind was, the more likely the Entity would take him exactly
where he wanted to go. If he could capture the moment perfectly, he would land himself back in the Borderlands the moment Everett returned from Sector Six. He didn’t know how receptive the man would be, especially if he had taken more than DNA samples from Rosette, but there was only one way to find out—confront him. Grayson hoped Everett’s shifting psychological state was up for it.

He stretched his arms over his head and let them fall, allowing the concerns and fears, the building battles and missing pieces, to drop as well. His whole attention zeroed in on the instant he wanted to be, and the reason why. When he entered the portal, he bowed to the Entity, and relaxed. ‘To Everett. In the Borderlands, please.’

When he stepped out of the corridors, he knew he had got part of it right. The air was warm and moist, carrying the fragrance of ginger blossoms and banana sap. Whip birds called with their lash and snap voices, their bodies invisible in the dense forest behind him. The sun baked down from above. It wasn’t the penetrating dry heat of the Temple Los Loma plains, heat that cooked to the bone, but a thick, wet warmth that made it feel like he was breathing steam from a bubbling jam kettle.

He headed for the abandoned Flight Centre, a horde of crows taking off as he emerged from the bush. They shot skyward, squawking and flapping until they resettled in the treetops a bit further away. He found a spot in the shade of a tall palm grove and took off his pack. Nesting it behind his head, he stretched out on the grass and waited.

Grayson watched the comings and goings of the crows, black against the blue sky, and the pecking guinea fowl in their herringbone suits, scratching up
dust, searching for seeds near the shed. A lone eagle winged into the valley, riding the thermals high above, scattering the crows and the ground birds. Without realising it, his lids grew heavy, the warmth of the day and the lack of sleep catching up. Of their own accord, his eyes closed and when he popped them open again, Regina stood above him, tapping his foot with her walking stick.

‘Grayson?’

He scrambled to his feet.

‘I thought that was you,’ she said. ‘Gave me a fright. You looked dead.’

‘Live and well and…’

‘Looking for Everett?’

He nodded.

‘Me too. Perhaps we’ll find him together.’

Regina embraced him, giving him a strong thump on his back and a kiss on both cheeks.

He relaxed, glad to have found her so soon. ‘Has Everett been missing long?’

‘You mean this time?’ she asked. ‘A day. A little more. He’s like a sheep caught in a maze: one moment browsing contentedly on the shrubs, the next bleating and racing into the barriers, desperate to find his way out.’

‘No improvement then,’ Grayson said, giving her hand a squeeze. ‘His memory?’

‘It comes and goes, along with the paranoia and angst. After he saw you last, he seemed to recall more. I think you’re good for him.’ She led him down the path. ‘Come. It will rain soon.’

The clouds, as if on command, raced towards the mountains, covering the sun and billowing into giant thunderheads.

‘Hike it back to the village?’ he asked.

She closed her eyes for a moment, lifting her palms
to the wind. A downy feather escaped from her sleeve and disappeared with the breeze. ‘We might as well. That is where he will return to, when he regains his senses.’ She looked over her shoulder at the portal. ‘Unless there was any trace of him that way.’

Grayson shook his head. ‘None.’

‘Come then. Home.’

He shouldered his pack, following her down the path and into the valley.

Grayson was drenched when he reached the village, the cloying heat of the jungle sticking to him like a second skin. Water ran down his back, off his cuffs and into his boots. He blinked the drops out of his eyes and smiled. No matter how uncomfortable he felt, he still found joy in the touch of pure water falling from the sky—no sting, no burn, no acrid smell. He held his hand under the tip of a broad banana leaf and let the water cascade onto his palm. It ran through his fingers. ‘The path of least resistance,’ he said.

Regina smiled. ‘That’s the first step.’

She led the way up the steps to the veranda, ducking under the waterfall sheeting off the roof. Grayson followed, stomping his feet and shaking his wet head. She gave him a brightly coloured sarong and disappeared into the bungalow. When he wiped his eyes clear, he saw Everett standing in the doorway. ‘Everett,’ he said, reaching towards him. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Do I know you?’

Grayson kept up his smile. ‘You do. We met in Sector Six, and again here, in the Borderlands. How’ve you been?’ He kept his hand out.

Everett shrank back from the gesture. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘Come in,’ Regina said, looking around the door at them. ‘Dry off. Eat.’

Grayson lowered his arm. ‘Thank you. That would be grand.’ He stripped out of his wet clothes and boots, hanging them next to others under the veranda. They wouldn’t dry, not completely, but if a breeze came up they wouldn’t mould either. He wrapped the sarong around his waist and entered to be greeted by the sweet scent of ripe papaya. Regina was seeding the bright orange fruit, slicing it into a large bowl. She squeezed a lemon over the top and put the bowl in the centre of the table. Next to it she placed a long boat of steaming rice and bamboo shoots. Grayson’s mouth watered.

‘Tea?’ she asked, filling mugs with a spicy brew.

‘Please.’ Grayson smiled as he took a seat.

Through the course of the meal, Everett came alive. He talked of his search and of the thief, speaking first in whispers as if they would be overheard but later gaining confidence and volume. Grayson resisted the urge to look at Regina. He could see her in his peripheral vision; her face was placid, her reaction unreadable. She cleared the table and poured more tea.

‘I’ve brought something to show you, Everett.’ Grayson reached in his bag and unzipped a folder. He pulled out a notebook, opening it to a page with quantum computations and images. ‘I’m stuck, actually, on a problem and was hoping you could help.’ He pushed the notes towards Everett and tapped the centre. ‘Does this look right to you?’

Everett studied the page, his hands shaking. ‘Rosette,’ he whispered. ‘Her name was Rosette.’ He looked at Regina. ‘I can remember that.’

She smiled, patting his shoulder. ‘What else?’ Her
voice was an invitation, so warm and steady that Grayson thought if he had no words left to say, no memories to uncover, he would surely make something up just to satisfy her. But Everett clearly remembered something. His brow was knitted, his eyes half closed.

‘You remember Rosette…’ Grayson said, leading him to the information he so hoped was there.

‘She died on my table, but they said they could bring her back.’ Everett stared at his hands, the notebook falling from his grip. They trembled until he clamped the mug. When his head came up, he levelled them on Grayson. ‘You said you could bring her back.’

‘We did. She is well and grateful. She sends her best wishes.’

His face softened. ‘Can I see her?’ He played with his ring finger, though it was bare.

‘She’s not here, Everett,’ Regina said. ‘Only the picture.’

Everett’s eyes went back to the page and he scrutinised it again, pinching the corner into a dog’s ear. He studied the equations, his eyes flashing across the images.

‘Everett, I must ask you something.’ Grayson waited for a response, continuing even though there was none. ‘Did you remove this from Rosette?’ He pointed to the diagram of Jarrod’s backup CPU. ‘Extract it from her DNA? To examine it closer, perhaps?’

Everett shivered. ‘She wasn’t like us. She had life in her, more life even in death, more than any at ASSIST, Sector Six. Fecund she was, so I took a chance and removed it. Why let the child die? I didn’t know about the devices. I didn’t have the requisition forms. How could I? She had no ID. We didn’t even know where she was from. But I faked one. I got it, stored it, before I knew.’ He pulled on his earlobe while he talked, his
words a stream of thought. ‘Then I saw the slides. The technology was banned. Demon technology. How could she have it? I didn’t know what to do after that. Would it pass on? Did it pass on? I don’t know. The thief came and took the child. Took them both.’ He grabbed his head and rocked back and forth. Regina placed her hand back on his shoulders but he didn’t notice. Suddenly he stiffened, slamming his fists on the table. ‘The thief came and took them before I had a chance to know.’

Grayson swallowed. ‘The thief took them?’

‘One moment they were here and then they were gone.’ Everett drummed the diagram with the palm of his hand. ‘We’ll never know. I wake up and it’s too late. I can’t catch the demon. She’s looking for more, smells for them. I can hear her scratching about the bungalow. I can see her at the edge of my mind trying to worm her way in.’ Everett’s body shook. Sweat dripped into his eyes but he didn’t blink.

‘It’s all right,’ Regina said. ‘The demon’s gone.’

‘Not gone!’ he shouted, knocking his chair over as he stood. ‘Not gone like the infants!’ His eyes were searching—a lighthouse, unseeing. ‘The thief followed me here. She hunts for more. I have to track her down!’ He ran out of the bungalow, his screams drowned by the pouring rain.

X
ane rubbed the grey mare with liniment, a mixture of snow root and peppermint tincture, butcher’s broom, rue and witch hazel. She had swollen tendons along her cannon bones and the pitting oedema was getting worse. The ride had strained her; she wasn’t in condition for it.

He straightened, letting her hoof drop gently back to the ground. ‘Snow root?’ He scratched his head, the vision of the black temple cat and the beautiful young witch coming to mind.
Symphytum Officinalia
. He was certain that was the correct name for the herb. He was also certain he’d never learned it. ‘How can I know that?’

The mare rubbed her forehead on his shoulder.

‘You two seem to be getting on,’ Willem said, cutting into Xane’s thoughts.

‘She’s learning fast, but not in fit condition for these mountain passes.’

Willem ran his hand down her front leg, pressing his thumb into the swelling, waiting to see if the indentation refilled. It took some time. He sniffed his fingers.

‘Snow root liniment?’

‘It’ll help but I can’t see how she’ll stay sound.’

‘And the others?’

‘No problem.’ Xane was going to elaborate but reconsidered. Every time he opened his mouth, he found himself using words he could tell others didn’t recognise. They were getting suspicious. He was getting suspicious. He put his hands behind his back.

‘Lead her as much as you can tomorrow. There’s a river to ford…’

‘The Goregan River? Near the Dumar Pass?’

Willem frowned. ‘Had a look at the maps, have you?’

Xane had never seen the maps, but he could picture the terrain clearly in his mind. It was like he’d been imprinted with detailed topographical renditions of the known lands of Gaela. More than that—he could see the entire world.
The entire world?
The unknown lands? Impossible. ‘I had a glimpse of the maps, sir,’ he lied. ‘Fascinating.’

‘They are.’ Willem sniffed. ‘We’ll camp tonight along a tributary. Make sure you stand her in the shallows for an hour or two.’

‘That should help the inflammation.’